“I hear a car,” she said. “Just thought you should know.”
“This is good,” Bev said. “Having Mom and Ellen talking to each other is good. It's why I came up here in the first place.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Kate washed her hands and opened a cupboard. “What's for dinner, anyway? Mom will want something when she gets here.”
“Yet another reason you should have told me. Jesus.” Bev looked at the bottle in her hand, imagined her mother's face when she learned there wasn't a gourmet meal waiting—let alone TiVo, Indonesian coffee beans, six-hundred-thread-count sheets, or Pilates machines—and decided to tackle the problem through the haze of fermented grains. She threw back her head and chugged the beer, reminding herself Gail Roche Lewis Torres wasn't a bad person—just a bad mother. To Gail, unconditional love was just lazy. To criticize was to care.
Sufficiently buzzed, Bev weaved through the house to the front door, stifled a giggle when she saw the misaligned couch, which made her think of Liam in his sleeping bag, who said he’d see her tonight, when her mother would be here.
She flung open the door, expecting a pretty fifty-year-old woman with Michelle Obama biceps, only to get the big, unpredictable hunk with chocolate eyes.
“Thank God!” She threw her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest. She inhaled his rich, manly smell. He hesitated for a second then put his arms around her and stroked her hair.
“Hi,” he said. His sweater felt like cashmere under her cheek. She squeezed him harder, and he chuckled. “Easy, easy. My ribs are cracking.”
Loosening her hold, she closed the front door to hide from her sister. The evening air was cold, but he was warm and had a way of touching her that soothed and excited her all at the same time. His mouth was so perfect, right there under his nose. She reached up and stroked his lower lip with her thumb, dipping it inside. “You have such cute teeth.”
He rolled his eyes but gave an embarrassed, boyish smile, and she felt her heart swell in her chest. “You have cute teeth too,” he said, and brushed his lips along hers. He slipped his tongue past the seam of her mouth and licked and twisted inside her, and she forgot about her heart and had dark, thoughtless thoughts that began low in her body and ended lower.
“Not here,” he said, voice deep. He tried to move into the house, but she stopped him with another embrace, savoring the sound of his pounding heartbeat, wishing he was somebody else, somebody she could keep.
She sighed and looked past his shoulder. “You better go. My mother will be here any minute.”
Liam buried his face in her hair. “Let’s both ditch our mothers,” he said. “Want to catch a movie?”
“You mean, like a date?”
He lowered his lips to her ear. “Too fast for you? We could have sex first, if you're not ready.”
She slipped her hand down the outside of his jeans until she found the patch pocket and nestled her hand inside, enjoying the curve of his butt. Her head spun and her lips felt dry, so she licked them, noticing how his gaze tracked the motion of her tongue—
Her mother's white Lexus SUV pulled into the driveway, blasting three long, impatient honks.
“Oh, my God,” Bev said, spinning out of Liam's arms. “Go. Go! Before she sees you.”
“Too late,” Liam said roughly. Chest heaving, he moved away from her another step, shoving his hands in his pockets. The driver’s side door popped open, Beyoncé blaring, then the car fell silent. He said under his breath, “So what’s our story? I came over for a cup of sugar?”
“I was kind of wondering that myself.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m your top VP. Make something up.”
Gail walked around the hood, pale hair flowing back behind her head in the wind, and scowled, wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s freezing!” Then, seeing Bev wasn’t alone, she took in Liam’s good looks with a slow, head-to-toe perusal and stopped dead. Bev felt her face turn red.
“Cup of sugar,” Bev muttered. “I’ll go get it.”
“Wait. It gets worse.” He jerked his head to the side. “Here comes another one.”
She glanced over his shoulder and saw Trixie trotting over with a herd of her miniature dogs, waving both hands like windshield wipers in a downpour. “Ahoy there!”
Bev waved back and, unable to think of anything else to do, laughed.
“Really, Bev,” Gail said, coming up the stairs while she smoothed down her hair. Her eyes shifted to Liam again, and her face adopted the toothy, enthusiastic, vaguely sexy expression she used whenever the lens cap came off a nearby camera. “Hello?”
“Mom, this is Liam Johnson, from Fite. His mother lives next door,” Bev paused, covering her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Liam, this is Gail, my mother.”
“Really, Bev.” Gail studied Liam for another long moment before she held out her hand to him, fingers limp.
“Hello.” Liam managed to take her hand in his and release it without making it obvious she had made him do all the work. “Pardon me, I was just leaving. Beverly, thank you for the signature.” Then he patted his chest as though he had tucked an important contract inside.
Trixie led the dogs up onto the sidewalk and marched up the driveway, not hesitating as she maneuvered around the Lexus and trotted up the steps to the porch to join them. “How wonderful. More mouths to feed.”
Bev heard a low, pained grunt coming from Liam’s direction.
“Signature?” Gail asked. “For what? And why are we all standing out here in the cold? Is there another problem with the locks?”
Giving the dogs the pleasure of sniffing at everyone’s ankles, Trixie came up to Liam’s side and beamed at Bev’s mother. “You must be Gail Roche. Here I told your daughter you were dead. Obviously not! My goodness, you look fifteen.” She held up her hands to her neck and pinched the flap of skin under her chin. “I call this my turkey wattle. Without it I’d look twenty years younger, but still not as pretty as you. My goodness.”
Liam’s eyes were closed, and Bev saw the muscles in his jaw twitch. Gail, softened by the compliment, smiled at Trixie then grabbed the handle on the front door and pushed it open.
“Please excuse me,” Gail said. “I’ve been on the road all day and my blood sugar is low. Beverly?”
“But that’s why I came over,” Trixie said. “I didn’t know you were here, of course—that’s quite a shock, actually, since in all these years I’ve never met you. But Liam disappeared again and I didn’t want them to think I didn’t know what was going on. Not that I’m going to make a fuss, but I hate secrets. Don’t you, Gail? Such a waste of energy, and ultimately so destructive.”
Twisting around in the doorway, Gail frowned at her and Bev. “Really, Beverly,” she said, annoyed but uncomprehending. She smiled tightly and looked into the house. “Isn’t Kate here? Kate!”
“We’ll be going now.” Liam took his mother’s arm and tried to lead her down the steps.
“Not without insisting everyone comes over for dinner. Are you a vegetarian, Gail?”
“No, but—”
“Then you must come over for my famous chicken lasagna. Your daughter has become like family to us. Both of my sons are crazy about her, though of course I’m not supposed to talk about that sort of thing. Sorry, honey.” She smiled at Bev.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Bev assured her, feeling wobbly during her out-of-body experience.
Kate appeared in the doorway. “Oh, my God! Those are frickin’ awesome dogs!” She fell down to the ground and held out her hands. “Are these the little guys I hear next door?”
“This must be your other daughter. What beautiful girls,” Trixie said. Her smile grew crafty. “I’ve got more pups back at the house, and they love to make new friends.”
Liam muttered something unintelligible under his breath, then, more loudly, “Mother, please. Let’s leave them to their reunion in private.”
“How do you care for so many dogs at a time?” K
ate asked.
“Oh, I work with a rescue group. I shouldn’t have so many at once, but soon a few of them will have new homes.”
“Oh, oh!” Kate said, eyes lighting up. “What do I have to do to get one?”
Gail stared at Liam as though she’d just realized who he was. “You’re the Olympic swimmer. My father’s protégé.”
He paused. “Yes. I worked for your father for many years.”
“And now for us,” Gail said.
“Us?” Bev snorted, then swallowed it when her mother grabbed her arm and squeezed the tendons above her elbow.
Her smile not betraying the pain she was inflicting upon her child, Gail beamed at Trixie. “Fite has always been a family business. I’m very glad to meet your famous son—and so much sooner than I’d hoped.”
“Can I come over and see the other puppies?” Kate asked.
Bev jumped in, alarm bells ringing. “Mom, you’ve been on the road all day, you must be tired—”
“Mark just came back to the nest for a while,” Trixie said. “Which is why I made such a feast, but my boys don’t eat like they used to, and I’d really appreciate your help—all of you—in helping us put it away.”
“It would be our pleasure,” Gail said. “We’ll be over in a few minutes.”
Bev and Liam’s eyes met in shared pain.
Chapter 18
“Heads up, Mark.” Liam strode into his brother’s bedroom and flicked on the overhead light. He was plugged into a computer in the corner with his headphones on and bowl of neon-red Cheetos at his side, and blinked up at Liam like a child coming out of a dream.
“Was there an earthquake?” He took off his headphones.
“More like an invasion. Mom’s invited the neighbors, and they’re all female.” Liam looked him over, shaking his head at the sight. “Thought I’d give you a chance to freshen up.”
“Bev’s coming over?”
The eagerness in his voice made Liam cringe, in part from recognition. Liam was just as pathetic, but better at hiding it. Glad Bev couldn’t see him, Liam grabbed the bowl of Cheetos and scooped a handful into his mouth. “And her sister. And her mother.” He peered down at an open suitcase on the floor overflowing with t-shirts and boxers and jeans. He was pretty sure the sour smell he was inhaling was coming from there. “Got anything to wear that doesn’t stink? You’ll spoil my dinner.” Then again, he wouldn’t have to worry about Bev finding him attractive.
“Sister?” he asked. “Is she as nice as Bev?”
Liam hesitated only for a moment before smiling. “Nicer, even.”
Mark clicked off his monitor and spun around in his seat. “Do I have time to shave?”
“Time before what?”
“Before they get here.”
“Oh, they’re already here, drinking the new Shiraz.”
The visible anxiety in his brother’s face never failed to amaze Liam. Mark was a good-looking guy, brilliant, and when he was relaxed, totally charming. But his self-confidence was crippled. Their father had given what little patience he had with children to Liam, and only then when he showed signs of paying him back for some of the effort, like a business investment. Mark had simply never paid out.
“I’ll sit next to you if you want.” Liam slapped Mark on the shoulder.
Mark bent over and picked a t-shirt out of the pile. Sniffed it, frowned, chose another. He tore off the shirt he was wearing and dropped it into the suitcase, then turned his attention to his pants. “Jeans okay?”
“They’ve got stains all down the front.”
“It’s just coffee.”
“Still, a stickler might suggest a fresh pair.”
“Ah.” He unbuttoned the fly and let them drop.
Trixie flew into the room. “Liam! Where did you go?” Bev was right behind her. At least, until she saw Mark and ducked back into the hallway. “Oh, nice of you to change for dinner, honey,” Trixie added.
“Mom!” Mark pulled his pants back up, his chest and face flushing red. He looked like he might be sick.
Trixie said, “I wanted Bev to see the fog rolling in. This room has the best view.”
Liam frowned at his her, suspicious. “Her house next door points in the same direction. I imagine she’s seen it.”
“No reason to be shy,” Trixie told Mark in a stage whisper. “You have a lovely body.”
Mark turned his anguished eyes on Liam, who felt a little guilty for laughing. “Go ahead,” Liam said. “Lose the pants too. You’re lovely.”
“Trixie?” Bev called from the hallway. “Who made these monoprints? They’re amazing!”
“Do you really think so?” Trixie left her sons and joined Bev in the hallway. “I made those ages ago at the art cent—”
Liam strode over and pulled the door shut, slipped the lock he’d installed in high school, laughing. “You can count on Bev.”
Mark was staring at him. “You’ve got a thing for her.” He found an indistinguishable replacement t-shirt in the suitcase and pulled it over his head. “Don’t you?”
Liam laughter trailed off. “Yes.”
“Does she—forget it. Of course she does.”
“I slept with her. I’m trying to repeat the experience.”
Mark crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you love her?”
Liam laughed. “Jesus, Mark. I only met her a few weeks ago.”
“That’s long enough. I would know.”
Unfortunately Mark fell in love as often as Liam fell in bed. “You need to protect yourself better.”
“I don’t understand you,” Mark said. “The one thing I want and don’t have a clue how to get, and you—you have to fight it off with a stick. Like it’s a disease you don’t want to catch.”
“Not a disease. More like exposure to a virus that once you’ve got the antibodies, you test positive for the rest of your life. I’m just—delaying that particular inoculation.”
“It’s not fair,” Mark said. He walked over to the mirror on the back of the closet door and scowled at himself, turning this way and that, licking his palm and smoothing down his hair. “I’m such a catch.”
Liam walked over and tucked the label of his brother’s t-shirt out of sight. Smiling, he rested his hands on his shoulders and squeezed. “Especially when you don’t do your laundry for months. And spend all your time online. Chicks really dig that.”
Mark jerked his elbow back to jab him in the ribs, then walked over to the door. “You said the sister’s nice?”
“That’s what I said.” Liam followed him out into the hall, which his mother had already emptied to regroup for her next attack, and walked down the stairs thinking about viruses.
Liam’s mouth was at her ear. “Want another drink to deaden the pain?”
The feel of his breath made her jump. Beer, wine, Liam. She looked up into his warm brown eyes and held up her empty wine glass. “Just water this time, please.” She glanced at her mother at the other end of the table next to Mark. “Your poor brother.”
Liam frowned. “Don’t worry about him.”
“You do.”
“I’m his brother. You can put him out of your mind.”
She heard the jealous edge in his voice and laughed.
Kate walked in with an elfin dog in her hand and a huge grin on her face. “He likes me!”
Trixie smiled and looked over. “He’s a she, sweetheart.” She pointed a serving spoon at the little dog's underside. “No boy parts, see? All right, the chow’s all here. Thank you so much for joining us tonight. I hope you don’t mind if I’ve lit a little memorial candle for your father. We’re not religious, but I did so appreciate what he did for Liam when my husband died. He was a difficult man—my husband I mean, though your father was no saint himself, as you know—and sadly for my kids, a much better husband than a father. So I was very grateful to Ed.” She dug into the casserole, scooped up a mound of steaming tomato sauce and pasta, smiling at Gail. “Lasagna?”
Hiding
her amusement at the sight of Gail's strained smile, Bev turned her head to see Mark return with a block of Parmesan. He was trying to get a good look at Kate, who had sat next to Bev and was still devoting every scrap of attention to the dog. “Hi,” he said to her, then cleared his throat. “I'm Mark. Liam's brother.”
Kate flicked her eyes over him once. “Sucks to be you,” she said, returning her attention to the dog. Mark frowned and looked at Liam, who was up to something because he shrugged but looked amused in a bad way.
Gail reached forward and took a teaspoonful of lasagna, studying it in the deliberate way she did all her food so she could record the portions in her online calorie counter. “Thank you. It's funny we should meet so quickly. Ironically, I was just talking about your son—” she tilted her head at Liam but didn't look at him, “—with my sister. Have you met my sister Ellen?”
With both hands outstretched for the salad bowl, Bev froze. “You've been talking to Ellen about Liam?” Her voice came out too loud for the table.
“Really, Bev,” Gail said, took a nibble of the lasagna, and smiled politely at Gail. “This is fabulous. Thank you. I knew it was too much to hope that Bev would prepare a decent meal. The only thing I've eaten all day is a BurnBar and Diet Coke.”
Trixie opened her mouth, then glanced at Liam and snapped it shut.
Liam passed her the Parmesan. “How’s Ellen? Her departure was so . . . sudden.”
“She is fantastic.” Eyes bright, Gail brought her hand to her face and looked up at the ceiling. Sighing, she glanced at Bev. “Everything has changed. I told Kate all about it. Johnny’s going to be a father—not married yet, but Ellen will take care of that.” She smiled at Trixie. “Johnny is my nephew, Ellen’s son. Bev, there is so much for us to talk about. You were right about so many things.”
Bev was finding it difficult to swallow her mouthful of lettuce. “I was?”
“Ellen told me how you refused to leave the company to her unless we reunited as a family. She flew to L.A. just to tell me that. At first she just wanted me to get you back home, but then we got to talking and laughing and crying—” Gail glanced at Trixie again and rolled her eyes, “and then it was like we were fifteen again. Which is why I've come up now to let you off the hook.” She glanced at Liam. “Both of you. Do you have any sisters, Trixie?”
Love Handles (A Romantic Comedy) Page 22
